My wife and I recently saw a coyote crossing the road near our home. The animal appeared in good health, with no sign of mange. It loped in front of our car close enough for us to get a good look before it disappeared into the brush near the road. We often hear the coyotes singing in the night, so we know they are around. South of our home is a reasonably sizeable undeveloped area with a few hay fields, plenty of woods, and other natural features. The BP oil refinery owns the land, and the company allows pedestrians and cyclists to use the space for recreation. When I ride my bike in the area, I often see people having fun with their dogs off-leash. It is a good place for pets to roam safely. I don’t know if that area is also home to the coyotes. I’ve never seen them in that area, but the one we saw was close enough to that space to have come from there. Our son has seen coyotes near their farm, but to date, the only predation of their chickens has come from domestic dogs owned by the neighbors.

Seeing the animal brings up a conundrum about describing it to my friends who have lived in Washington for a long time. I come from Montana, and I have lived in the Dakotas. Where I come from, along with Wyoming, Kansas, and Nebraska, we pronounce the name of the animal “kai-oat.” It only has two syllables. Out here, folks are most likely to say “kai-oat-ee.” I’ve also heard “kai-oat-tay.”

I understand that different languages have different pronunciations for animal names. When someone commented on how I pronounce coyote, I used to say that where I come from, coyotes don’t speak Spanish, so the name has only two syllables.

I have to admit, however, that there are a few outliers and renegades even in the places where most people use the two-syllable version. The clearest example that comes to my mind is the mascot of the University of South Dakota. To locals, it is pronounced “kai-oat,” and sometimes the teams are referred to with a single syllable: “yotes.” But if you hang around the university, you’ll occasionally hear someone referring to the mascot, Charlie, as Charlie “Kai-oat-ee.”

I blame television. Too many generations of children, including those from South Dakota, have watched too many episodes of the drama between the Loony Toons Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote. That cartoon has been around since 1949. Making matters worse, too many people live in areas with very few coyotes, so their experience comes more from the cartoon than from real life. I understand the phenomenon. The first time I saw a real road runner was when I visited Arizona. I was surprised by the size of the bird. I expected it to be more on the scale of a coyote, which it is not.

I’m sure someone will point out, as often is the case, that most dictionaries favor the three-syllable pronunciation. As a fan of dictionaries, however, I respond that Noah Webster’s original 1828 dictionary didn’t even have the word. It first appeared in the Imperial Dictionary by John Ogilvie, published in 1885, where two pronunciations are shown, but “kai-oat” is the first. The first time a Webster’s dictionary used the three syllable version, they spelled it “coy-oh-te.” I don’t know whose accent that represents.

I’m sticking with “kai-oat.”

That brings to mind another unrelated issue. My friends from New England insist on calling garbanzo beans chickpeas. I point out to them that they aren’t peas at all. They are legumes. One of my friends pointed out that if you Google garbanzo beans, the first article is the Wikipedia entry for chickpea. The same happens if you search the New York Times recipe database for suggestions on preparing and serving garbanzos. It yields recipes for chickpeas. However, if you go to the grocery store searching for chickpeas, you’d better be willing to purchase a can of garbanzo beans because that is how they are labeled, at least around here.

In Washington, people often tell me I have a Minnesota accent. That didn’t happen when we lived in South Dakota. I was occasionally told I have a North Dakota accent and always accepted that with pride. However, I can hear the difference between how I pronounce Dakota when I say North Dakota and South Dakota. Despite what my friends from the East think, they are not the same. I know that the Dakota Territory was divided north and south instead of east and west because if they had divided it the other way, the western side wouldn’t have had enough population to qualify for statehood.

I also know that in North Dakota state history classes, teachers point out that North Dakota is the 39th state and South Dakota is the 40th state. In South Dakota, they teach that the two states were admitted simultaneously on November 2, 1889. November 1889 was a banner month for new states. Montana, where I was born, was admitted on November 8, 1889, and Washington, where I now live, was admitted on November 11, 1889.

For the record, my accent is a Montana accent, not a North Dakota or Minnesota accent. I just happen to know how locals pronounce their states' names. And in Montana, you can tell whether a person is a local by the way they pronounce coyote. And don’t give me the line about how Governor Gianforte pronounces anything. He is hardly a native. When elected in 2021, he hadn’t ever spent an entire winter in the state despite owning a home in Bozeman. The constitution of Montana requires the governor to live in Helena, but Gianforte found the Governor’s mansion lacking amenities, so he and his wife purchased a $4 million mansion in town.

I’m pretty sure that people who live in multi-million dollar mansions don’t know how to pronounce coyote correctly. They probably eat chickpeas too.